


collection.

by kenhwan



Category: EXO (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenhwan/pseuds/kenhwan
Summary: basically i started a bunch of aus and then got off track or didn't know where i was going or how to end so. here.





	collection.

**_TENDER AGE IN BLOOM : YIFAN & ZITAO HIGHSCHOOL AU _ **

 

Yifan cannot believe that he, an 11th grader, is head-over-fucking-heels in love with a freshman. Scratch that, he doesn’t even know the kid’s name, but he sure is cute. It looks like his hair was white over the summer (they’re only two hours into school, great job yifan), but it was now fading to an over processed blonde and even light brunette in some places, his roots are dark, dark, dark. 

The boy is in his World History class, second period. Kris has been creepily staring at him ever since he took the seat in front of him. He remembers his name being _Zitao_ which is so obviously chinese, he really wishes that the teacher would have called him Jiaheng or Yifan (both of them are on his forms, since his older papers have Jiaheng on them) instead of Kris. 

And Zitao is bad at English. It’s adorable, it’s so clear that he only moved to the school, or maybe even the country recently. Not that Yifan can say much, he only came to this American school across the border a few years ago, but he could still speak english pretty well at that point. But even now, all of Tao’s l’s sometimes slur into r’s or he tries to talk too fast and mandarin gets jumbled in. 

His voice, oh, his voice is almost as precious as his English itself. Maybe it’s just first day jitters but he’s so, so quiet. He’s quiet but Yifan could still hear him. His voice is cute and nasally, and it almost sounds like he has a cold 

He’s tall too, which is saying something because Kris shot up to 6’2 over last year. He’s not actually taller than Yifan, but he still towers over most of the hallway. 

He’s in the middle of some ridiculous fantasy about kissing a _freshman boy_ in this exact hallway of lockers when he hears a loud squeal. He only realizes he’s been staring at Zitao when he blinks and sees him in his direct line of sight, a shorter boy jumping on his back before he turns around. “Panda !” 

There’s a soft, strange noise and Yifan almost cries when he realizes it’s his laugh.

He slams his locker, quickly speed walking away and to his next class before his heart actually explodes. 

-

The next day they’re put in pairs, partners determined on who you’re sitting behind or in front of. There’s four people per row, so everyone is sure of who their partner is right away. Being at the back of the row with Zitao in front of him, Kris was fucked from the start. 

His heart clinches whenhe realizes this himself. Zitao turns around with a shy smile, and the older can see clearly the dark circles around his eyes. The nickname sure makes sense now. 

Kris gives a smile in response, “Zitao.”

“Kris,” He cuts Tao off with a wave of his hand. “Yifan-ge.” He corrects the younger teasingly. This makes the blonde duck his head, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Yifan-ge,” Zitao starts again, quieter than before, and Yifan can physically feel his heart explode into a million fireworks. It’s probably weird that he has a giant crush on this kid and he told him to call him ge, but he seemed so uneasy before. To Yifan, Zitao is a tight wire, pulled taught into a knot at the middle, and he was going to untie him.

He breaks Yifan out of his thoughts with a small cough, “A- Adam Smith? What did he do… ?” His english is just as broken and stuttered as it is before, and it is just a two of them, so Yifan quickly changes the conversation to mandarin. ‘Adam Smith was a uh - ‘ Zitao visibly relaxes, so he continues. ‘He was an economist. Free market and stuff.’ 

The conversation was smooth after that, and he learned Zitao was nowhere near as dumb as the upperclassmen had said he was after class yesterday. He’s just - Trying to learn a new language as quickly as possible in a new place while he’s also taking five other classes of all new information in that new language. That would be hard on anyone. 

-

The day goes on as normal, half way through third period Yifan goes to lunch. He looks around the room, as he hasn’t really figured out where he wants to sit this school year. He flipped through the stereotypical highschool lunch table book in his mind. He could sit with the kids who want to be rappers (which included sitting with an overly ambitious puppy, basically. until his owner aka either seungkwan or chan came and got him), the jocks ( he’d always been good at basketball and had a few friends) or he could - Oh. 

In all his scanning, his eyes of course land on the platinum blonde head sitting off to the side of one of the emptier tables. His first thought is Zitao is sitting alone. His second thought is _Zitao is sitting alone._

So of course, what does Kris do? He sits down right next to the younger. Tao looks up from his can of soda (which is the only thing in front of him), seeming a bit startled like he didn’t expect anyone to sit next to him. 

Kris picks up one of his fries after over-salting them, takes a bite, and chews in silence. It’s already been too quiet. ‘So what do you do?’

Zitao is silent for a moment, then a few, then so long that Yifan is afraid he’s not going to answer. He opens his mouth to ask something else, but just then he gets his reply.

‘I can do martial arts. And I like to sing and rap and dance and write songs.’

Yifan blinks, because that was about 10 more words than he’s ever heard the younger speak at once. 

He tries to imagine pretty Zitao slinging around martial arts equipment like a pro. He can’t, purely because he watched this angel drop or accidentally throw his pen at least 20 times in second period alone. This must show on his face because Tao just mumbles into his drink neck this time. 

‘What?’ 

‘I said I always drop the pole and hit myself with the nunchucks.’ 

That’s more realistic, not to be mean. 

Some more silence. Yifan ponders if Tao has been raised with the stereotypical harsh chinese parents or if he’s just really the speak when spoken to type. So he speaks to him again. 

‘So - The singing and rapping and song writing. Don’t you wanna sit with the ….. Kings of feestyling over there?’

There’s a shrug in response. ‘The blonde one is too loud.’ 

‘Vernon.’ Kris nods. The puppy. Which really, he loves, but where’s his chill? ‘But tell me about it.’

Zitao looks down at his hands, gears in his head turning. ‘I …. Have a song named Crown which is - Okay. It’s - It’s in Chinese and it’s not rap but - I’m not very good at rapping in English.’ 

‘Can you sing it for me?’

‘No.’

Damn. Okay. That was the fastest reply he’d gotten all day. He guesses it’s fair, alot of people aren’t very confident in their abilities, even superstars. He’ll ask again another day. For now, he humors Tao in throwing a few lame jokes in there just to hear his cute laugh ( someone at the other end of the table mocks his laugh quietly to a friend and Kris almost kills her )

The bell goes off and they part ways, Zitao with a small wave and he disappears into the wave of highschoolers and Yifan with a delayed nod. 

He gets a text from ‘taozi’ shortly after, all it reads is ‘:)’ 

He smiles at his phone, before promptly remembering that his Geography teacher will literally crucify him if he’s late. He better get going. 

-

The next day is even better. Half of class is spent dealing with schedule changes and getting lockers situated, while the second is a supply check. Durig the supply check, they text dumb selfies taken from bad angles back and forth. Yifan turns around slightly every now and then to flash him a playful ‘are you kidding me?’ face. 

-

It’s time for lunch once again and Zitao doesn’t look as lonely when he’s waiting for Kris, and he doesn’t look at startled when he sits down. 

‘Yifan-ge . . .’

Zitao has to be an angel. 

‘Have you ever heard of Nirvana?’

Kris blinks. ‘Isn’t that the shirts with the smiley faces all those girls wear?’

He makes a face. ‘Well - Yeah but have you ever heard their music?’

The older starts to shake his head, while Tao is already searching up a video on youtube. He smiles as he hands the upperclassman his phone a song playing that sounds overly messy and grungey and much too edgy for his angel. 

His silence must speak for him, because said angel speaks up. ‘It was one of the first bands I heard when I came here but - I - I like it alot . .’ The words trail off and he feels like he’s embarrassed tao for liking what he likes, and he just can’t have that now, can he ? 

‘It’s good!’ Kris lies - Kind of. He honestly has no fucking clue whats going on with all the drums and bass and he can’t tell a single word that the vocalist is saying, but it does make Zitao smile so it’s okay with him. 

-

Weeks come and go. And then it’s October. 

October 31st, for the exact day. Their highschool does have a few festivities, but they’re a little too old for that and Zitao doesn’t really understand it anyways. The more Yifan explains it, the more absurd ‘dressing up and going door to door asking strangers for candy at night, also there’s like pumpkin carvings and hayrides and that kind of stuff for no real reason’ starts to sound. 

So instead, he grows some balls and decides that fuck it, what does he have to lose? He’s going to ask Zitao out and hope he’s not been reading all the signs wrong. When he first attempts its ‘Hey so - I kind of have something important to ask you?’ and then class starts and its forgotten about. 

The second attempt is at lunch, when he has no choice but to face is because Zitao confronts him with ‘so what did you need to talk about?’ the second he sits down with his lunch. Kris fliches, because he really did forget about it up until now. He’s starting to quickly rethink it because - Does Zitao even think it’s okay to be gay? Does he even know how dating in American really works? He must. Yifan knows he isn’t stupid, but beeing raised by Chinese parents - He obviously knows how that is. 

‘Yifan ge-’

‘Do you want to go out with me?’

‘Oh, okay, where?’

‘No Zitao - I mean -’ He sighs. Really, he could totally just say ‘the park later’ but that would be throwing everything down the drain unless he decided to ask him at said park, but now was _the perfect chance_ ‘I mean do you want to be my uh -’ Spit it out, Yifan.

‘Do you want to be my boyfriend?’

Zitao blinked, and Kris’ heart shattering into a million pieces must be a new trend. 

‘Boyfriend?’

‘Yeah, you know, like dates and stuff.’

Silence for a few more moments. 

‘Yeah, okay.’ He nodded.

**_YOU CAN BE A BAD MOTHERFUCKER ( THAT DON'T MAKE YOU A MAN ) : FAILED CHANKWAN HIGHSCHOOL AU_ **

Boo Seungkwan isn’t a bad kid. Far from it. He’s one of the best members of their highschool choir, gets good grades and has good friends. He goes to all of the football games to cheer on their team and he’s nice to everybody.

Lee Chan is a bad kid. The direct definition. He’d much rather hide behind his leather jacket with the grey hood, dig holes into his black jeans and trip cheerleaders than ever go to a sports game. 

But god, to Chan, his senior is so adorable. He’d probably give anything to be able to walk up next to him in the hall and wrap an arm around him. And maybe kiss his cheek. Or his lips. Dumb cute shit he scolds himself for everyday. Dumb cute shit he’d _never_ let anyone know he was thinking about doing with the school’s pride and joy. 

Thankfully enough for him, the fall dance is coming up and it’s none of that ‘girl’s choice’ bullshit, so he can ask whoever the fuck he wants. And how is he going to ask him to the dance? The way he does everything intimidating. 

Step one was to get his ego as big as it could possibly be. He’d fill his head with confidence and the thought that he is the best. Step two was to march himself right up to locker 389 and ask out the boy of his dreams (and not get distracted by his cute cheeks or floppy bangs or- Stop that.). 

Clearly, he’d never thought about the fact that Seungkwan was in the year above him, or that he may already have a date to the dance. 

They had a single friend that connected them named Hansol. 

 

**_THIS ONE DOESN'T HAVE A NAME BUT ITS ALL SMUT PRACTICE FROM LITERALLY THE FIRST SMUT I'D EVER WRITTEN AND ITS NASTY CHEOLSOOL IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT SKIP TO THE NEXT BOLD, ITALICIZED TEXT_ **

It’s only a moment after Joshua walks in the door that he’s attacked by a mouth on his and strong arms around his waist. Seungcheol’s pressing him against the door not even 5 minutes after he walks through it, dropping his backpack. It’s a welcome surprise, as Seungcheol wasn’t supposed to be back from his business trip for another two nights. 

Of course, dating the CEO inherit of one of the biggest companies in Seoul is far from a nightmare. And Seungcheol is far from the usual rich kid type. He’s loving and kind and strong and has a hard time doing anyone wrong, he even helps pay for some of the younger’s college. And Josh loves him, he loves him so much. 

They’ve got it all worked out in hand gestures and noises. Seungcheol’s hands grab at Joshua’s ass, Joshua uses his arms around his boyfriend’s neck as stability as he gives a little hop. His legs come around the older’s waist as he grinds forward against him. He tilts his head back as Seungcheol licks up his neck, it’s slobbery and messy and gross but that’s how Cheol likes it so he lets it pass. 

Soon enough, Josh is being carried and let down onto the bed. This is the part he hates. He hates the tedious preparation, and he appreciates Seungcheol’s courtesy and efforts, but he doesn’t think he needs to take 4 fingers and half a bottle of lube every time they get in the mood. It takes much too long for the older to return with the lube (it’s cherry flavored, because for some reason the fake fruit flavor is Seungcheols favourite, and he’s the one that buys it after all. It doesn’t matter to joshua either way). 

Joshua lets out a whine, pressing his hips up into nothing. “Daddy,” He breathes out, because he thinks it’ll hit his boyfriend just the right way. They don’t always play like this, with names or kinks or otherwise, but he’s ready for it. He knows if Cheol doesn’t want to, he’ll tell him.

He looks over and sees his ‘daddy’ visibly shiver, but he continues to take his time digging through the drawer. The older does lay down the pink tinted bottle at Joshua’s hip, but apparently didn’t find all he was looking for because he then goes over to the closet. When he reaches for the top shelf, Joshua realizes what he’s getting. 

In the top, in a box that originally held Joshua’s Christmas present to Seungcheol, there are two collars. One of them is Joshua’s and one of them is Seungcheol’s. Usually, whoever is domming that night initially gets to decided whether or not to put the collar on their sub, but of course leaving the sub with the overall desicion.

Sometimes, Seungcheol will get home from his father’s company before Jisoo gets home from college that day, and the older will be waiting, holding out this collar for his boyfriend to put on him. Sometimes, when Joshua fails a test, he does the same.

Cheol pulls out the shoebox out and pulls out something pretty before putting it back. There’s a simple clip on the back, which he unhooks. Joshua presents his neck and its fastened around it quickly enough.

His collar is a velvet baby blue band with white lace, a silver heart charm with ‘baby’ engraved on it. His mood improves, and while he’s never considered himself much of a ‘little,’ he may or may not slip into the headspace just a bit now and then. It’s something they’ve only discussed once, and Josh said he wasn’t a little, but Seungcheol takes care of him anyways. Seungcheol knows what he needs. 

With the collar around his neck, he leans up for a kiss, to which Cheol indulges him. He pulls away only long enough to pull both of their shirts off. Jisoo whines again when he looks over his boyfriend. He knew Seungcheol has been working out more lately, but he hasn’t seen the results until now. 

Joshua doesn’t have much time to ponder and appreciate before his pants and briefs are being pulled down. He shivers when suddenly slick fingers are at his entrance and sighs contently when the first one slips in. He already feels himself starting to fall away. 

He allows himself to.

Jisoo lets out a sweet moan when he feels the second proding in next to the first,the older giving a hum in response before kissing his jaw gently. Seungcheol lightly runs his free hand along his boyfriend’s side, cooing praises to him. He can always tell when Jisoo disappears and his sweet Shua comes out to play. 

Shua is a different person in the same body. A person that only comes out every once in a while, when Jisoo is particularly stressed or horny, or maybe he just is in the mood for it. 

“Daddy,” Shua calls out, biting down on his lip slightly.

“I’m here, baby.”

“Need, Need more. ‘S not enough.” He’s almost crying.

Seungcheol is never going to not spend at least 15 minutes prepping, so he just coddles him in response, adding more lube and starting to work him open faster. He’s a bit worried Shua is already too far gone to keep going, so he pushes the younger’s head back from his forehead and asks the questions he’s agreed to. “Joshua,” He kisses him on the head. “Baby, tell me, what’s your name?” 

There’s a sob, one that sounds devastated and desperate. “Joshua, it’s Joshua, please-” “Ah, good boy. What’s my name?” “Cheol, Daddy, please- !” 

Seungcheol presses into him, placing kisses all over his face. He’s reciting in his head all the terms and gestures they’d created that mean ‘stop’. He distinctly rememebers the words being “red,” “calico,” and “holly.” He remembers that Joshua pressing up on his chest or pulling off his bracelet are also in play, in case Joshua is in any situation where he can’t talk. 

The older quickly takes note of these things, checking the silver beads on the other’s wrist and where his hands are placed. So far, so good. He pulls out about half way before slowly thrusting back inside his heat. Cheol acutely feels Shua’s breath on his ear, chanting out an almost silent mantra of “daddy, oh god, please.”

He hikes one of the younger’s legs up, propping himself up a bit more pounding into him at the new angle, making him almost scream. Seungcheol thinks Jisoo comes back for a moment when he hears, “Talk to me.”

Who is he to deny his boy such a thing?

He groans, nodding and running his hand up Josh’s thigh. “My baby boy, my pretty baby boy, you just need to be filled up, don’t you? Just need daddy to take care of you, yeah?” Shua keens in response, back arching up off the bed. 

“I’m gonna fill you up real good, okay baby? Daddy’s almost there, almost. Keep making those pretty noises for me, Shua. Pretty noises from a pretty boy.” And he’s serious. Between Josh’s whines and begging, and the tight heat around his cock he’s already about to fall over the edge. 

“Be a good boy and squeeze down for me, okay? Can you be a good boy and do that for me?” 

Shua lets out a frustrated cry, tears long since started running down his cheeks. “Yes - Anything, please - I’m a good boy, daddy. Your good boy, promise - !” Shua keeps his promise, squeezing down hard. It’s three more thrusts until Seungcheol is groaning and spilling into him. 

With being filled up, and the perfectly timed bite his daddy left just below his jugular, he spurts white across their stomach’s, falling almost completely limp under Seungcheol. 

The older really doesn’t want to use the baby wipes on Jisoo, because they would be much too cold against his skin. But then again, he’s totally out of it, and Seungcheol refuses to leave him for even a minute in this state. So he supposes the baby wipes will have to do. 

He runs one between Jisoo’s legs before reaching into the drawer and pushing one of the smallest plugs into him after wiping it off as well. Sometimes Joshua yelps or shivers or flinches away from the cold, but it’s over soon enough.

Cheol sits down, situating the pillows before laying down. He pulls his boyfriend on top of him, running his hands through the sweaty hair, placing kisses across his forehead. “Joshua, baby. Come back.” He coos every now and then until Jisoo’s eyes blink sleepily up at him. 

The older boy gives him a soft smile. “I’m glad we’re both back now.” 

He gets a happy hum in response as the younger shifts, getting comfortable before closing his eyes. “I feel like a million bucks.”

 

Seungcheoll’s collar is heavy leather. It’s thick cut with a single big ring in the middle of the front and a buckle in the back. 

It looks so, so good on him. It’s the same dark as his hair, almost too tight around his tan neck. The contrast between the black and his skin must be one of the wonders of the world. It looks even better on him when he’s like this, bent over the kitchen table and breathing heavily. 

There’s something that gets Joshua off all the quicker to have his boyfriend, taller and broader than him in every way, submitting to him so willingly. He runs his hands over the muscles in Seungcheol’s back, watching the way they tense and relax in anticipation. 

Seungcheol knows his God as well as Josh knows his. Jisoo will always be his, pretty like Aphrodite and all powerful like Zeus. He’d do anything for him without a single thing in return, would live for him and die for him and breathe for him. He’s fully devoted, and Jisoo would never take it for granted.

He kisses up his spine, pulling at the plug Seungcheol had apparently put in himself this morning after Joshua left. He tugs it and wiggles it around a bit, making the older bite back a moan before he pulls away completely. 

Jisoo leaves a hard hit on his boyfriend’s ass. He jumps a bit, slightly turning his head to see what was going on. “Bed.” Is all he gets before he’s being pulled up by the back of his collar and towards their room. 

Both of their collars serve different purposes. Joshua’s is to make him feel pretty, safe, protected. Like he’s giving himself to someone who knows best, will make sure he’s okay. Seungcheol’s is to make him feel owned, to make him feel like he’s not in control, not in charge for once. 

_**ROMEO AND JULIET AU : CHEOLSOO ( this one, i'm not going to lie, is copied word for word for the movie, so none of the ideas are actually mine besides the roles of the characters and i'm not really proud of it, but i did spend time on it so take it as it is )**_

_two households, both alike in dignity, in fair verona where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star crossed lovers take their life._

The chois are wild, wild boys with wild, wild friends.  
Their father owns half of seoul, not a force to be reckoned with. 

Soonyoung parks the car in the parking lot of the convenience store, he hops out and turns, pointing to Mingyu. 

“The quarrel is between our masters.”  
“And us, their men.” He responds with a shit eating grin as Soonyoung enters the building. 

Across the lot, expensive tobacco is snuffed out on concrete by even more expensive boots. A car engine dies out. 

The chois hear a mocking noise from the other side of the church van. As the occupants of the van round the side, vernon makes a circle with one hand and shoves the pointer of the other hand through the middle. 

The van speeds off, eye contact is made.  
This could never end well. 

The chois and hongs have long since coexisted in peace, fighting over the stock and share and everything in between. 

“He comes from the house of capulet,” Vernon rushes out.  
“Quarrel,” Mingyu displays his token of the choi family crest.

Jeonghan simply smiles charmingly, calmly revealing his gun with their own family crest etched to the handle. 

Jeonghan yells and both chois flinch back, one into the backseat and the other against the car door. Both Minghao and Jeonghan laugh obnoxiously, falling back to their own vehicle. 

“I will bite my thumb to them, which is a disgrace to them if they bare it.” Vernon utters to Mingyu, licking over his lower lip. 

He bites down on his thumb, stepping forward and wiggling the fingers on the same hand. 

Jeonghan yells, hitting the car into reverse and backing into the middle of the lot, exiting and walking forward.  
Vernon struggles to close the car door, fumbling in panic before he realizes he must meet Jeonghan.

“Go forth, I will back thee !” Mingyu yells from somewhere behind. 

“Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?” Jeonghan roars.  
“I do bite my thumb, sir !”

“Do you bite your thumb at _us_ sir?”

Vernon turns to his brother, “Is the law on our side if I say I?”  
The screamed response is negatory. 

“No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you sir but I bite my thumb, sir !”

Mingyu yells from behind Vernon, “Do you quarrel, sir ?”  
“Do I quarrel, sir ? No, sir !”

There’s more bickering, the choi brother starting to panic. “Here comes our kingsman, sir!”  
“Yes, sir !”

All is chaos when Soonyoung emerges, gun drawn.  
“ - Fools, you know now what you do !”

He points his weapon all around, “Put up your swords !” 

Vernon pulls his gun on the Hong women in the car with a disheveled huff. 

Minghao drops a match on the ground from his cigarette, Soonyoung’s eyes flashing to the flammable sign on the gas truck. 

He turns his full body towards Soonyoung. 

“Turn thee, Soonyoung, and look upon thy death.”  
“I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword or manage it to part these men with me.” Soonyoung breathes.

“Peace? Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell . . . All chois . . And thee.”

A child yells somewhere and Minghao draws his gun towards the sound. A woman grabs the child, and the shots start between the households. 

Vernon’s gun stays on the women in the car, keeping them at bay. Soonyoung’s gun is knocked under the chois’ car as MInghao continues to shoot, one in each hand. 

Vernon isn’t sure where to shoot but he emerges from the vehicle, guns hot as bullets fly. 

He returns to the car as quickly as he can, yelling out to Soonyoung. “Come forth, come forth !”

“Wait !” He replies as the gasoline cap is shot by a hong, also returning to their cars. 

Vernon continues, “Come forth !”

Minghao reloads, aims one more bullet and squares Mingyu in the half shoulder half chest. The cigarette drops into the spilled gasoline and ignites. 

Soonyoung revives as soon as possible, jumping up to escape through traffic as more shots are fired back to the store. 

The store is ablaze in less than two minutes, fried plaster and busted glass.

The choi father looks at his wife, “Give me my longsword, ho !”  
She sternly replies, closing the case, “Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.”

A call is heard, “Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace ! Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground ! On Pain of torture, from those bloody hands throw your mistempered weapons to the ground !

The guns drop, current battle fought and not won. 

-

“Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word by thee, old choi and hong. Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets. If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.” 

-

The rides home are started by silence, looking out through windows into dismal blue. 

The wife and mother speaks, “Oh, where is Seungcheol? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray.” 

Soonyoung’s head rises as he speaks, “Madam, underneath the grove of sycamore, so early walking did i see your son.”

The father choi rolls his eyes.  
“Many a morning hath he there been seen, with tears augenting the fresh morning’s dew. . .”

“Away from light steals home my heavy son and private in his chamber he pens himself. Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, and makes himself an artificial light.”

_**ANOTHER CHEOLSOO AU THATS JUST . PURE FLUFF ? I MIGHT CONTINUE THIS ONE IF PEOPLE WANT IT** _

Seungcheol has never been a particularly happy guy. He supposes he just attracts negativity, it flows to him naturally just as bad fortune does. He goes to work as a painter during the day, comes home and cleans himself up, washing the reds and yellows and the occasional blues and pinks. He’d cook dinner, which meant TV dinners or burning his hands 7 times on the stovetop and another bottle of emergency burn gel. 

So a pre-made microwave meal with questionable meat would have to suffice tonight. He throws it in the microwave and hits the four button. He’s in the process of undressing to take a shower ( he can shower quick, just a wash of his hair and a quick scrub of his body ) so his food would be done and cooled but still warm when he got out, when his phone went off. He groaned, grabbing his phone. It appeared to be a text from a new client. He always insisted on clients texting instead of calling, as he would no doubt slip up and say something awkward or borderline offensive or - Well, anything could go wrong, really. 

He liked to refer to himself as a freelance artist, painting anything from murals to houses. You might think that someone as accident prone as Seungcheol would be bad at something that could turn so messy so quickly and well - That would just make sense. But it seemed to be the one thing he was good at, using a brush to streak colours over rocks and walls and everything in between. It helped him, really, to believe that in art, there are no mess ups as long as you keep an open mind. 

He’d taken in that this text was from a guy named Joshuawho played guitar. Joshua Who Plays The Guitar was wondering how much it would cost for Seungcheol to paint said guitar ( flowers, to be exact ). Honestly, it wouldn’t cost much. More of the expense would be for the finisher to make sure the paint wouldnt chip off the wood. He texted back a quick ‘depends on the size of the flowers, how many, etc. i can get you an appraisal tomorrow? Or any other day we’re both free” 

With that, he quickly finished undressing and hopped in the shower. That took way too long, just thinking of a response, so he may have skipped an extra couple of scrubs in the shower so his food wouldn’t be cold. He threw on a pair of sweatpants after drying out, sitting on the couch and flipping on Saturday Night Live.

-

To say the least, this is not what Seungcheol expected when a guitarist named Josh texted him. In his head, he was imagining a dirty hippie that lives in a shack with plants of all sorts growing up around it, or maybe a hipster that wears a fedora and rides a bike everywhere. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t the boy standing in front of him and welcoming him in. He was .. Well, he was extremely pretty. He had pretty eyes and pretty lips that curved into a pretty smile. He had to be the same age, if not younger than Seungcheol.

Joshua set himself and Seungcheol on the couch, playing the guitar between them. He explained that he wanted wildflowers across the body, leading up and trailing off around the back of the neck. He explained he wanted mums and other bright coloured flowers as well, a nice combination of all shapes and sizes. 

Cheol could do that for a total of 40 dollars. It wasn’t a very big space, he could probably do it with acrylics if he got a good finisher, so it was settled. They shook hands and exchanged smiles, and Seungcheol was anything but patient about seeing the other boy again.

-

The next time he saw Josh, he was handed the guitar with little conversation. Apparently the younger had somewhere to be extremely quickly, because he dropped off the intrument with a ‘thank you!’ and he was gone. 

Seungcheol automatically got to work. He figured guitarists needed a guitar, right? It was the main source of their income, the main device for their occupation. And who was he to keep such a pretty boy waiting? He carefully drew outlines with some white chalk before starting on some petals. The best thing about painting on such a canvas was that if he messed up, he could wipe it away with soapy water before it dried. 

After he finished a flower, he would move onto a different space to let it dry, or to let a certain part dry before doing another layer. Really, it was one of the more fun works he’d done recently and he was thoroughly enjoying it. Flowers were fun and interesting and if you had the right hands, they were almost impossible to mess up. 

-

A few hand cramps and six hours later, he set the guitar to the side to completely finish drying. He was tired, too tired to cook, so he got a bag of trail mix and settled into bed. He always let works dry over night to ensure that the finisher wouldn’t smudge anything. Really, he figured he could go ahead and apply it after about 30 minutes, as he let each layer dry before he moved on anyways and the layers were extremely thin, but better safe than sorry. 

-

The next morning, as soon as he awoke at 8, he carefully applied the glossy finisher, sealing in his work and ensuring protection from water and food and otherwise. He ate a champion’s breakfast of a chocolate protein shake and 3 strawberries before taking a shower and doing his usual morning routine (which really wasn’t much). 

At about 3, Joshua pulled up to his small shop, a smile on his face. He looked a bit doubtful, or maybe just worried. That soon changed as Seungcheol picked up the guitar and handed it to him carefully. The younger boy’s eyes lit up at the bursting colors that adorned his instrument, a grin growing from his left ear to his right. 

“Seungcheol, this looks amazing!” He awed, running his fingers across the shiney designs. He quickly pulled out his wallet and counted out 50 dollars. 

Seungcheol blinked. 

“It was only 40-”

“Think of it as a tip, okay? It looks really really good! Too good to just leave at the flat price-”

There was another nod and another show of gratitude before Joshua was leaving just as quickly as he came.

For some reason, Seungcheol’s heart fell to his stomach as the other pulled out of the drive way. He wanted to know more about Josh, what made him frown and what made him smile more. The hopeless romantic half of him reminded him that he had Joshua’s number, he could just text him and ask if he wanted to go out. The actually sensible part of him told him that that would just be plain creepy and he definitely should not do that. So he decided to go with the sensible part. 

He mopily cleaned up his paints, re-washed all his brushes and looked over at his phone every few minutes. The one time it did go off, he was overly excited, some irrational part of his mind telling him that it was the boy messaging him maybe just another ‘thank you’ or maybe even asking to hang out sometimes. Alas, it was just his friend Jeonghan asking him to go to some tavern-esque restaraunt, to which he hastily agreed. He took a nap with the thought of never seeing Joshua again heavy in his mind, heart, and soul. 

-

Seungcheol couldn’t have been more wrong, but all things considered, this was probably the luckiest he’d been in his entire life. 

Jeonghan was a photographer that had no real specialty. He took pictures of Seungcheol’s paintings or pictures of other paintings, pictures of people, pictures of places and things and anything in between. Which was initially how they met, with Jeonghan contacting Cheol to ask if he could use one of his works in a piece he was doing for some hippie dippie art magazine that he knew nothing about. Of course, he said yes, and as Jeonghan looked into more of his work, they became friends. 

Honestly, sometimes going out with his older friend made him feel bad. He certainly didn’t feel pretty enough to go out with him and not look ugly, but he reminded himself that pretty isn’t everything and went on with his life. But this - That wasn’t something he could worry about right now. 

What he could worry about ( and was worrying about, for that manner ) was the fact that in this dim lighting, sat upon the barstool in the place roped off for bands, was Joshua, lit up like some angel in the wrong place. Joshua on the barstool with the guitar that _he_ painted, and if he squinted he could even make out the ‘csc’ in little swirly letters that he always signs off with. 

He wasnt listening much to the music before, just Jeonghans stupid jokes and overly-loud laughing, but he sure was now. He couldn’t tell what part of the song he’d listened into, whether it be the beginning, the middle, or the end, but he strained his ears just a bit harder to make out some words. 

_“- these things take forever, I especially am slow. But I realized that I need you and I wondered if I could come home.”_

Hr crinkled his nose at the words. He’d been listening for no more than a minute and this song already sounded mushy. But the more that he thought about it ….. Joshua had seemed the type to sing acoustic love songs. He certainly had the face and personality, and now he was hearing that he also had just the perfect voice for it, soft and with the smallest bit of a rasp. 

_“- this is the first day of my life, I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you.”_

Seungcheol almost felt more sad than when he thought he might never see Josh again. No doubt there was someone he was singing this for. Someone here at the bar that’d come with him, someone who was at work earning money for them to spend on their apartment or house, someone who was at home maybe taking care of their dogs or - It got worse the more he thought about it. It was probably some pretty girl that was just as gorgeous as Joshua himself was and that Seungcheol could never compete with.

The girl probably had frail, pale limbs that were dainty and pretty and a thin waist for Joshua to wrap his arms around and bright iris’ the color of the ocean or amber or spring grass and long hair that was probably red or blonde or a pretty brunette. She probably had a clear complexion that she still covered with makeup because she thinks she’s ugly, which makes him feel even worse, because if the pretty girl isn’t pretty enough then neither is he.

Seungcheol was all tired eyes and dark hair and just a slight muscle from lifting supplies, skin tanned and spotted by the sun. And those god damn freckles that he couldn’t keep away under his eyes, the ones he hated more than anything because honestly, what the fuck? What the fuck is right, he thought to himself. He needed a drink. 

-

The next time he saw Joshua, it was three months later and he was at the same tavern, singing another love song and playing on that stupid guitar Seungcheol painted himself. He managed to get there with Jeonghan a little earlier, so he could catch the very beginning of the first song. 

_“You know it ain’t easy, for these thoughts to leave me. No words to describe it in french or in english”_

The song was - it was different from what Joshua had sang before. It almost - It almost seemed sad, melancholous. Maybe it was just because he was feeling more and more down because everytime he saw the younger, he felt like he was getting farther and farther away instead of closer. 

The next few lines were cut out of his hearing by Jeonghan’s loud laugher at something the bar tender had said (seriously, this guy had to know everyone in town) and Seungcheol cursed him. The next lines that hit his ears were - Well, they felt the same as the last, and to be honest, he related to them a bit too much. 

_“These feelings won’t go away. They’ve been knocking me sideways, they’ve been knocking me out babe, whenever you come around me.”_

He was broke out of his trance once again by Jeonghan’s border-line-abusive punch on his shoulder. “You’re staring at Josh again.” Of course Jeonghan knows Joshua. Of course he knows him well enough to comfortaby call him Josh. Honestly, he felt so attacked he just wanted to leave, but as expected, Jeonghan disreguarded his discomfort and continued. “I saw you painted his guitar. It’s nice, I took pictures. You should really talk to him though, the staring is starting to get creepy, honestly.” 

Well, he was already caught so … What could a few questions hurt?

He was 100% planning to stay subtle, but all that was gone to hell when he blurted out. “Is his girlfriend pretty?” 

Jeonghan blinked before bursting out with that obnoxious laugh again. “Joshua? With a girlfriend? You’re real funny, Cheollie. That kid wouldn’t know love if it kicked him in the dick wearing a hat and a shirt that both said ‘hello, my name is love’” 

Oh. _Oh._


End file.
